


Silence on the Rooftop

by ofhauntings



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Angst, Canon Speculation, Canon levels of gore and grossness, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 15:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7849768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofhauntings/pseuds/ofhauntings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year before Lucy was hired, Lockwood & Co. was an even smaller Agency than it is today. Anthony Lockwood, along with his deputy George Cubbins and their new assistant Robin, are struggling to make a name for themselves.We join our trio as they get put on the case that Anthony is sure will be their big break. The only worry is that there wasn’t enough information George could dig up to know what they were up against. Could be a Shade, could be a Wraith, but deciding it was worth the risk for the publicity, Lockwood leads them on with the promise of being extra careful. </p>
<p>Unfortunately, we know how this story ends.</p>
<p>(Speculation on how Robin died. For the Lockwood & Co Big Bang)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence on the Rooftop

Three sharp raps on a large aluminum door rang out into the silent night, only the sound of clinking chains and other bits of iron filling up the space around three boys standing in front of the hospital entrance. 

One boy, tall and lanky with his hair swept back, took a step back from the door and revealed his blinding pearly whites in anticipation for his client to open the door. It was obvious just by the air of him that he was the leader. The second, much shorter and much stouter, returned his glasses to his face after a quick clean on his shirt. The third and newest member of the trio was in between the other two in height and had striking red hair. He shifted nervously.

“Where is he, the other side of the building?” George grumbled to himself, dropping his dufflebag on the ground and shoving his hands into the pockets of his puffy jacket to warm them in the chilly evening air.

“I’m sure he’s on his way.” Robin spoke up. “When we met him he didn’t seem the type to stand us up, did he?”

“I agree. He seemed quite genuine.” Lockwood assured, then shrugged. “And it’s not like we have anything better to be doing anywhere else, so we’ll be patient.” 

George scoffed, knowing full well that his fearless leader wasn’t exactly one known for patience, but the trio stood in silence after that. After almost a full minute of not so much as a scuffle behind the doors, Lockwood’s optimistic grin had nearly faded when the latches on the door finally clicked and the door swung open on squeaky hinges. 

“Ah! It was you.” Said a disheveled, obviously bothered man wearing a labcoat and his hospital scrubs. He must have come there to wait for them right after work, seeing as no one had actually worn scrubs at this particular hospital since the Problem began. It was getting late, so the doctor had reason to look a little havered. Adults always got antsy right before curfew. “Sorry for keeping you waiting. I thought I’d only imagined the knock, heh.” He laughed nervously.

George raised an eyebrow but, before he could say anything, Lockwood butted in with something doubtlessly more polite.

“Good evening, Doctor Yancy. I’m sure you’d like to be on your way back home, so the quicker we get moving on this tour the better.”

The doctor nodded and lead them inside. Lockwood was even more excited than he usually was. An extra bounce in his step and a particular genuinity to his smile gave it away, because this wasn’t just some nobody Shade spooking the neighbor’s cat. No, Lockwood & Company was about to get its foot in the door with a real, proper case on the way to moving up as a respectable Agency, and it excited Anthony to no end.

Doctor Yancy, though he had only moderate social standing, was on the staff of London’s biggest hospital Barts, who specialized in ghost related trauma-- specifically that experienced by young people and Agents. Yancy had friends, specifically ones of a higher social standing than him, and when Lockwood and his team sorted this whole case out for him it’d only be a matter of time before they were getting bigger cases left and right. Maybe they’d even have to hire a fourth member. The excitement overwhelmed him, but as always Lockwood retained a cool and collected aura around him.

The hospital, as stated before, was in a pretty sorry state. Paint peeling, mold growing, the scuttling of mice off in dark corners-- after the gruesome death of one of the doctors, mauled to death by his patient with his own scalpel, the hospital had been abandoned and all of the patients relocated. As the death had taken place before the common ghost prevention practices of modern day, no one had taken care of it until now. Dr. Yancy had been asked to hire someone to get rid of the ghost as quickly and privately as possible by his superiors. Lockwood & Company was the definition of a low-key extraction.

The doctor quickly took them on a very brief tour, only pointing to the rooms and stairwells as opposed to actually showing them. The tour went on in a blur, and Robin found his mind wandering. He was glad George had found a map on the hospital in the archives before they’d gotten there, because this ‘tour’ was going in one ear and out the other. All of the doctor's nervous stuttering was painfully boring to try and pay attention to.

“The roof is where it happened.” The doctor said, obviously nervous to be even talking about it. “There’s a ladder at the end of the hall through a trapdoor on the ceiling that will give you access to the… to the roof.” On the cue of a glance from Robin and Lockwood, George nodded, confirming that his maps matched up to Dr. Yancy’s claim.

“Thank you, Doctor.” Lockwood said, his signature thousand gigawatt smile spreading across his face. “We’ll get this all sorted out for you before the night is over, I can promise you that.” 

Robin and George exchanged glances. There their leader went again, making promises they didn’t know if they could keep. A haunting this old and this bad solved in a night? They weren't exactly an experienced outfit of Fittes Agents with the resources to make that happen, but if Lockwood & Co. had anything is was an overabundance of optimism on their side.

“Yes, good... Very good.” The doctor stammered, wringing his hands. “I’ll be going then… good luck.”

And with that very abrupt adieu, the trio was left alone again with the shuffling footsteps of their client echoing away down the tiled halls. As soon as he was comfortably far enough away, Lockwood clapped his hands and grinned at his colleagues. “So! Off to it then. Have you two noticed anything so far?”

“Seeing as our Visitor is up three floors above us, no.” George grumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’ll need to poke around more.”

“Same here.” Robin replied. “But I’m definitely getting something. I can’t make it out… it's just static, but there’s something terrible in this building. I'm sure of it.”

“Well let’s get a move on then.” Lockwood said seriously, transitioning from his dealing-with-clients to Agent mode seamlessly.

 

The trio went about the normal investigation protocols; all very careful and by the book. Usually, Lockwood didn’t mind being a little reckless if it meant the job got done efficiently, but this was no ordinary case and he did not want to screw it up for them. All were advised to be cautious as they continued.

The lower levels were mostly ignored. A quick sweep up and down the halls, pausing only to check the temperature (chill, but not abnormally so) and to use their Talents, which yielded nothing but further indication that the Source was certainly somewhere above them. These checks lasted about an hour with no fruit to show for it, but that was expected. None of the boys were discouraged. If anything, they were even more excited than before.

“We’ll set up a circle on the roof once we get there and scout around for the source. George, remind us what we could be up against.” Lockwood said as they convened below the entrance to the roof.

The pudgy boy pushed his glasses up with a finger and scowled. “Well, if my research is correct-- which it is-- we’re facing off against something nasty. A crazy ward patient went up there with a scalpel and killed their doctor. It was a massacre; the body wasn't even recognizable by the end of it. A closed casket funeral, I'm sure you could imagine. This was before any proper procedures were in place too, so no one ever came in to deal with it. Definitely a Type Two.”

Lockwood’s excited grin and chatter was a veil to Robin’s terror. One of the first rules to being an Agent was to control your emotions, or the Visitors would control you. He knew that, but even so just thinking about how disturbed that patient must have been-- what kinds of angry, vengeful voices and visions he’d see and hear when he got up there-- it never failed to send a chill up his spine and get his heart thumping. His leader’s confidence helped him a bit, but something about that roof couldn’t be shaken from his mind. Dread washed over him, but he swallowed it and pushed it aside. He wouldn’t let the creeping fear get to him this time, because it was about more than just him-- it was about the future of the company. 

After declining Lockwood’s offer for tea, adrenaline pumping too hard to risk taking a sit-down and losing it, the trio went up the ladder. First Lockwood, followed by Robin and George. It was a general rule that George went last when they had to crawl up through small spaces, because neither Lockwood or Robin wanted to have to stare at his bottom for longer than absolutely necessary. George was more than happy to oblige, because that meant he didn’t have risk getting a facefull of ectoplasm when he emerged on the other side like the other two did.

Fortunately, no one was eating an ectoplasmic knuckle sandwich this time around. Pulling himself from the trap door, Lockwood emerged and reached back down to help Robin and George out with him. The roof wasn’t anything fancy-- just gravel, concrete, various vents and shafts. Your typical roof, except for the glaringly obvious bloodstains near the edge.

Obviously no one had cared enough-- or been brave enough-- to stick around to even clean it up. No wonder the ghost was so angry. 

“Set up the chains, Robin, then come with me. George, take your readings. The death glow is still bright as day and this poor soul isn't going to stay away for much longer.” Lockwood whipped out his sunglasses and donned them as he went to investigate the yellowed bloodstains. George grumbled something about how he didn’t need to be told to do his job and shuffled away as Robin obediently laid out the circle. It was near perfect and done in record time. If he’d been brave enough, he would have been accepted into Fittes or Rotwell without a doubt. However, as it was, Lockwood had a reputation for picking up the strays that big agencies didn’t want. He felt lucky to snag someone as skilled as Robin before someone else snatched him up, bravery be damned. 

As George busied himself with his meticulous temperature readings, Lockwood knelt and examined the ancient bloodstains. Around what had been the main pool of it, there were spatters and drips everywhere. He couldn’t help but grimace as he was forced to imagine what kind of terrible death must have occurred here, and that wasn’t even mentioning the death glow. It looked as if it had happened last week, not thirty years ago. He was glad he’d had the foresight to bring his sunglasses. Robin walked up behind him not long after. He didn’t have to be told what to do next.

Closing his eyes, Robin kneeled down next to Lockwood and lightly brushed his fingers over the stained concrete. For a few moments, nothing happened, then all of a sudden the wind was knocked out of him and he suddenly wasn’t himself anymore. He was still on the roof, but his vision was blurry and Lockwood was no longer anywhere to be seen.

A faint sobbing came from the curled up form of a girl. Young, maybe in her late teens, disheveled, and dressed in a classic hospital gown. Her pain shot into Robin’s mind like a needle, the initial pain slowly spreading throughout his body and replacing his own emotions with anger, helplessness, fear, hysteria. She needed help, but before Robin could try to step forward, another figure entered the picture. A man, much taller than the girl and made even taller by his long white lab coat, who was noticeably disheveled as well.

Robin watched in frozen horror. The fear of the girl heightened as the doctor’s footsteps grew closer. She tried to make herself as small as possible, visibly shaking. Her sobs grew louder and more hysteric than before. Robin’s heart beat faster and faster as the doctor placed a hand on her shoulder. He wanted to yell and warn him about the girl’s hidden weapon, but even if he could it would have been cut short by the heart stopping sight of a gleaming scalpel sliding out from under the doctor’s sleeve. Time seemed to stop with his heart as the blade came down to the side of her neck and sliced her--

 

“NO!” Robin screamed, breaking his connection to the past and snapping back to reality. He fell back and scrambling away from the blood. “No, no no no no.” He stuttered, eyes wide with the hysteria and fear of the poor, poor girl who'd died here. She was scared, so scared. She was scared and helpless and pissed. The doctor was supposed to help her, she trusted him. How could he have done that? How… how, how, how--

George rushed over as Lockwood took Robin’s shoulders and shook them, trying to bring him back to reality. “Robin, calm down. What happened, what did you see?” He asked frantically.

“T-t-the doctor. It was him, it was him.” Robin said, still shaking. “He--” The redhead stared up at Lockwood with huge, fearful eyes. “He tore her apart.”

“Doctor Yancy?” George asked incredulously.

Lockwood’s eyebrows furrowed, grip still tight on his friend’s shoulders. “Calm down, Robin. What did you see?”

“T-the girl. She was so scared. H-how could he have done that?? Doctor's are supposed to help their patients, they help.”

Lockwood shook his head and motioned for George to help him get Robin back to the circle he'd made. Setting the shaken boy in the gravel, George and Lockwood exchanged worried glances.

“I don’t know about this, Lockwood.” George said nervously. “I’ve never seen Robin this freaked out.”

“We have to keep going.” He replied, expression serious and steely. “This is too important to the company. If we can’t do this, we might not have another chance like this for months.”

George still didn’t like it, but there was no arguing with Lockwood when he made up his mind.

“Robin, stay here. George-” Lockwood ordered. “We keep going. The bloodstained concrete is the source obviously, so let’s neutralize it and get out of here.”

The pair left their frightened friend to retrieve their iron seals and nets from the dufflebags. In an attempt to diffuse the tension, George grumbled and complained. Lockwood ignored it. Robin’s attention was still on the bloodstains.

Pain, confusion, and fear still flooded his mind. He put his head in his hands to try and block it out. It didn’t make sense. He wanted to save the girl. He wanted justice for her. He wanted to kill the man who killed her-- but he was already dead, and so was she. There wasn’t anything he could do. Nothing, nothing, nothing…

A chill on Robin’s back made him look up. He screamed.

Lockwood and George whipped around in time to see a hideous, skinless Raw-bones crawl out of the gravel and lunge at their friend. Robin, backpedaled out of the circle and closer to the roof’s edge in fear. His friend’s cries were lost as the beating of his heart blocked out every sound except the scream of a girl having her throat slit over and over and over and--

Suddenly Robin’s hand didn’t find a surface behind him to brace itself on. Another scream tore through the night as a flash of red hair tumbled off the roof and down four stories to the ground.

“ROBIN!” George and Anthony screamed in unison, anger taking over for Lockwood as he pulled his rapier from his belt and slashed through the apparition on his way to the edge of the roof. Wisps of ectoplasm evaporated into the night as he charged forward. In his fit of recklessness he might have thrown himself off the roof as well if George hadn’t been there to grab him around the waist and hoist him back up. Lockwood went limp in George's grasp and stared down at the ground in shock.

There was silence on the rooftop. No cars, no crickets, no ghostly whispers. Only the echo of a young man’s death in the air and an emptiness indescribable.

 

The funeral was small. Robin’s family and friends, along with Mrs. Cubbins, were the only guests besides Lockwood and George. Neither of them boys had accepted the opportunity to speak, and no one blamed them. It was obvious by just looking at them that they were still shaken up about the whole affair. 

The eulogies just restated what the boys already knew. Robin had been an excited, intelligent young man with a bright future ahead of him. He deserved to be honored as a hero, but in the end he’d met the same fate as so many children before him. People were desensitized to it now. No one would even bat an eye at his name in the paper except his family and friends.

Needless to say, Lockwood & Company hadn’t gotten the reputation they were hoping for from this case. After an impossibly long night of giving DEPRAC their testimonies and having Inspector Barnes lecture them for what felt like an eternity on proper protocols, the boys were exhausted both physically and emotionally. George went home with his mum at her insistence. Lockwood decline her kind offer to stay with her as well and took a cab back home on his own. 

They even bother looking at the papers the next morning because they already knew what they'd say. A little tiny box on page four with a little tiny article about how an agency run by children lost essentially a third of their operatives by not having the proper supervisors on sight. Anthony Lockwood, only just 16, lead his team to their almost certain death-- blah, blah, blah.

Lockwood was pissed. People questioned his methods, questioned his company's integrity, their ability, and to top his week off he was being blamed by the papers (and even by some of Robin's family members) for the death. 

It made him uncharacteristically quiet. Anything he did say was short, irritable, and made George pissed off too. 

This wasn’t something he could just… push down and forget about like everything else in his life! George fumed to himself. They had to work through this together. As friends.

At least, that’s what his mum had advised. George had taken some time off after the funeral to stay at home for the weekend. There were some things you needed family for… which in hindsight made Lockwood's situation even worse. 

When Lockwood was being an ass, George often took a trip home to rant and (inadvertently) ask for advice, but it often ended in the same answer. Communicate. 

Bleh.

But, as Mrs. Cubbins was very rarely wrong about these sorts of things, George tried his best to follow her advice.

He tried to make conversation. He tried to be understanding. He tried to be a decent freaking person, but none of it worked. Lockwood was still being just as much of an ass and it wasn't getting any better.

“My mum invited us over for dinner tomorrow.” George said gruffly, poking his head into the rapier room where Lockwood had taken to spending most of his time lately.

“You can go if you like.” Lockwood answered shortly, slashing poking the straw dummies into oblivion. He was taking them both on at the same time, buy his expression made it look like the whole exercise was boring him. “I'll be fine on my own.”

George had had enough. After being rejected once again, for the third time in as many days, he couldn't take it any more.

“Lockwood, what hell is your problem?”

Lockwood whipped around, letting the dummies swing and bumo into each other, sending straw and dust floating to the floor. He blinked. “Excuse me?”

George's face turned more red by the second. “For a week I've done nothing but try and talk to you about this, but you won't even listen to me!”

Lockwood's face turned serious and he narrowed his eyes. “I don't need to talk about this. I'm fine.”

“No your not! You're obviously not. You've been quiet and irritable and all around an ass since we got back home from the funeral.”

“That's not--”

“Shut up, Lockwood. Look, I know that you lost your parents,” Anthony's face became darker at the mention. “But you can't just box up your emotions about everything! You need to talk about it! I--” George hesitated after opened his mouth to say more, but continued even though it was obviously painful to admit. “I need you to talk about it. I can't do this alone, Lockwood.”

Anthony opened his mouth to retort back, but George's rare transparency caught him off guard and made him freeze mid thought. “I… I'm sorry.” Lockwood said, sounding surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth and fumbling for what to say. “I didn't realize…”

George continued to scowl up at Lockwood, but there was that hint of sadness in his glare. the grief that hasn't left him since that might on the roof. “I know. I just.. I need you to do this with me. I need us to do this together.”

Lockwood didn't know how to respond. In over a year of knowing George Cubbins, he'd never opened up like this before. Ever. And it didn't help that he wasn't exactly an expert on handling emotions. 

“I…” Lockwood stuttered, racking his brain for the right thing to do. What had people done for him when he'd lost Jessica? What had she don for him when they lost their parents?

Before he even realized what he was doing, Lockwood had stooped down and wrapped his arms around George, embracing him in a tight hug. He felt George tense underneath him, the unfamiliar touch being… well… unfamiliar, but eventually he returned the embrace with his face in Lockwood's shoulder.

The embrace was silent, short, and more than a little awkward, but the change was palpable in the air. The boys felt closer, lighter-- with the weight they'd been trying to bear by themselves was shared between them. 

When they let each other go, both avoided eye contact. George wiped at his eyes as he cleaned his glasses and Lockwood coughed lightly to clear some of the silence.

“Thanks.” George muttered gruffly, trying to hide an embarrassing sniffle. 

“I... you're welcome.” Lockwood replied, scratching his nose and avoiding eye contact.

Another awkward silence followed as George composed himself. “You're not alone in this, okay? Just remember that. We’re in the together. Always.”

Anthony glanced back too look his friend in the eye, a glint of something new in his eye. Though neither of them were any good at expressing their emotions in a genuine manner, a newfound understanding of each other was between them. There was trust. There was love. 

The only way I can think to explain it is something akin to the love between brothers.


End file.
